


Miss Samantha and Her Man the Hunter

by MostlySane



Category: Glee, Supernatural
Genre: BAMFiness by all involved, Canon Typical Violence, M/M, MtF transformation, Possible Mpreg, Road Trips, Underage Drinking, Unsafe Sex, more tags will be added at the author's discretion, possible OCs, probably slow updates, transsexual character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-11-22 07:25:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostlySane/pseuds/MostlySane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life isn't going so great for Sam Evans, until a mysterious stranger picks him up outside of 7/11. Then he embarks on a trip around the US, fighting mythical monsters and becoming Miss Samantha. But will happen when real life come calling?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Enter the Hunter

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Has there been an episode of Glee where two smokin' hot brothers in an Impala show up to beat up monsters and sex up the Glee club? No? Well, then, whadaya know! I don't own Supernatural and Glee after all!
> 
> This is another of my fics from ff.net that I want to continue, so I've moved it here. Hope you all like!
> 
> Asterisks:
> 
> *a madam is basically a nice name for a female pimp
> 
> *I don't actually know what color Sam's hair is supposed to be, but let's go with Dean's okay? Does anyone know if Chord Overstreet is a natural blond or not?
> 
> *now, you may be thinking, "hey, they shouldn't know that!" well, yes, they can. One of my family members is a secret agent. He can't say what he does, or what branch, or whatever, but he does know martial arts and how to use a weapon.
> 
> *I'll explain Dean's explanation later, kay?

Normally, Sam would be ashamed to be here, standing outside a Seven-Eleven trying to look like a lost puppy and hoping someone would be sympathetic and shady enough to buy him a drink. So far though, he'd gotten five numbers, three from hot girls, one from an obvious madam*, and the last from a shifty guy who kept glancing meaningfully at an alley. Sam wasn't sure he really wanted to know what that guy wanted.

But really, Sam wasn't interested in sex. Okay, yes, he knew he sounded more like an alien from Mars, and less like the healthy teenage boy he was, but really, sex was drama, and Sam had no room in his life for that. Even if he had a one night stand, the girl might possibly get pregnant, and with Mom already pregnant again, that would be just one, two more mouths to feed.

Also, Sam wasn't trying to be conceited or anything, but what if the girl decided she wanted more, like say, a relationship? Well, after the whole Quinn/Finn fiasco, he was of the mind that he just didn't anything like that again in his life.

Besides, Sam felt…tired. Not physically, no, today was not a gym or football practice day, but Sam just felt…drained. He didn't feel like getting to whatever place this hypothetical girl might want to hook-up, and he certainly didn't feel like snapping on a condom and getting busy. He just wanted to lay somewhere and being drunk or at least slightly buzzed seemed like a good option as well.

So here he was, standing by the door like a dejected puppy. No one was falling for it, except a sweet little girl about Stacie's age, who gave him one of her lollipops and a wide, gap-toothed grin. Sam sighed and shifted his weight.

Just then, a shiny black, very well taken care of, 1967 Chevy Impala vroomed up to the curb. Now Sam wasn't exactly as crazy about cars as most of his fellow male classmates and peers, but as soon as he laid eyes on that vehicle, he fell head over heels in love.

The guy who stepped out immediately intrigued Sam. His hair was sandy, about the color of Sam's real hair without the lemon juice*, but the guy's hair was short, and spiky on top. He wore a badass leather jacket, just as badass ripped up jeans, and not the store bought rips, and even more badass, "well loved", as his mother would say, clunky, combat boots. Under his jacket he wore an open red plaid flannel shirt, and the classic black AC/DC t-shirt.

But that wasn't what really caught Sam's attention. What caught him and held him was the way the man held himself. He held himself like a well-trained soldier pretending to be a civilian. Sam knew, because as a little boy, and even when he had the chance now, he spent every spare moment of family get-togethers studying every move and mannerism of Uncle Jesse, who everyone in the family knew was some sort of secret agent. * And this man, he had the same mannerisms as Uncle Jesse's, even down to the quick 360 disguised as an innocently sudden and vicious neck itch that need to be scratched at just the right angle to provide coverage for a look around.

He caught Sam's eye as he strode towards the entrance, and for a moment he paused, as if he was about to stop and say something, but he just gave Sam an once-over and continued on into the store. The jock sighed again. He had hoped he'd be the one, but no dice. He stood for a couple minutes more, but was just about to give up the goat and head home when the same man walked out of the store again, a six-pack of beer and two bottles of whiskey in his hands.

"Here, kid, help me get this to my car, huh?" he muttered in a deep, gruff voice as he dumped the six-pack into Sam's arms. Sam gripped the pack with a surprised look on his face, but followed him to his car.

"Get in," he commanded, as he began to slide into his seat.

"Um, sir, I'm not…I can't just get in your car with you. I don't know who you are," Sam protested, still holding tightly unto the pack and wondering if he could make a run for it. The man shot him a "don't even think about it, kid" look and sighed, sounding annoyed.

"Dean," he grunted, then raised an eyebrow, prompting Sam to tell him his name. He quickly complied, as it was pretty obvious that this was a dangerous guy.

"Sam Evans, sir, but I still don't know you," Sam dared to add. Both of his eyebrows rose.

"I'm a police officer, kid, off duty," he added when he saw the blond teen's skeptical glance at his attire.

"Uh, no offense, sir, but I don't think a police officer would let a minor drink," Sam pointed out. His brows rose again and he cocked his head back, staring at the boy under half-closed eyes. There was a challenging look in his eyes.

"Maybe I was fired. Maybe it wasn't my fault. Maybe I'm just trying to spit in the face of the people who hurt me, even if it's just giving a fucking can of beer to a fucking kid. Maybe I just wanna do something so I don't feel like a fucking pussy*. Now get in the damn car!" his voice got louder with each sentence, the last one pretty much a shout, and Sam was glad the parking lot was practically empty.

He got in the damn car.

TBC…


	2. Whiskey Kisses

The Impala rode like a dream, rumbling like a content tiger and heeded Dean's every command like a faithful dog. She leaped around each corner like a cat on the hunt, and the dyslexic boy couldn't contain his pleased sigh as he sank into her leather seats.

Dean shot him an amused yet approving glance, and returned his eyes to the road, making a quick turn and pulling into the American Family Motel parking lot.

"This is where you're staying?" Sam asked incredulously. The look Dean gave him for that comment was annoyed once more.

"I know it's not the Ritz, but that's no reason to turn up your nose-"Here the teen cut him off hurriedly.

"It's not that! It's just…someone I know stays here…" he muttered, knowing from Dean's disbelieving look that the man knew he was lying.

"Sure, whatever, kid, just get the beer and let's go," Dean replied with a quick roll of his eyes. Sam followed obediently, which, he thought as they walked into the elevator, he found himself doing a lot with this man. Not that Sam thought himself one of those "rebellious teenagers", but normally he didn't follow someone around like a lost puppy. However, there was something about Dean…

"Y'know, kid, I've been thinking, you're right. I shouldn't just be giving you alcohol like this, even if I drank at you age," he speculatively said as he closed the room door behind them, turned around, and leaned on it. Sam gave him a suspicious look. Was this the part when the sadistic psychopath started laughing insanely over the naïve teenager's stupidity and pulled out a knife?

"Oh, relax, kid, I'm not gonna kill ya!" Dean laughed, having caught the boy's wary glance,"I just think you should work for it. I mean, that's how I got mine as a kid*."

"Firstly, it's Sam, not kid! And what kind of work exactly are you thinking of?" Sam asked as he glanced down, still suspicious, but wondering if the man might give him money as well as beer for whatever job he had in mind. When Dean didn't say anything, Sam looked up from the beer still cradled in his arms. His eyes were immediately drawn to the pretty obvious bump at Dean's groin. The blond's eyes widened and he began to frantically shake his head.

"Oh no! No, I am NOT doing, doing…that! Not for a million bucks!" he protested. Dean shook his head, a tiny smile curling his lips and a terribly knowing glint shining in his green eyes.

"But I'm not offering you a million bucks. What I'm offering you is some booze, a safe place to stay when you get trashed, and just a little time to lose control, to let me take the lead. I'm just offering you a choice, Samuel. You can leave it, walk out that door, go back to your room, and never stop wondering what might have happened. Or, you can take it, get down on your knees, suck my dick, and let me take care of you. What will it be, Sam?" the glint in his eyes grew brighter, and Sam already knew his choice before he made it. He set down the beer, got down on his hands and knees, and crawled over to Dean.

"Good boy," the man practically purred as he slid his hands into Sam's hair, "Now, get started, Sam, and let's see if you can earn your booze," he commanded, and Sam got to work.

His hands were shaking as he pulled down the zipper on the man's worn jeans. Then, he cupped the man's balls*, feeling how smooth* and full they were. He wanted to keep his eyes safely on the balls; he wanted to ignore the giant step into the unknown that was the erect dick quite literally hanging above his head. Dean's hands tightened slightly, and he knew he could stall no more.

Sam looked up, his blue eyes meeting the cock already reddening with blood. He looked up and down it, not sure how to proceed. A dry chuckle sounded above him, and he looked up to meet Dean's amused eyes.

"You don't know what to do, huh? Well…will you let me show you?" at the teen's nod, Dean continued, "Okay, but know this, kid, once I start, I ain't gonna stop. You just gotta trust that I know what you can take and what you can't."

Sam nodded again. For whatever reason, he trusted him, and something told him Dean had had more than enough blowjobs to know.

The sensations were hard to describe, and that the feelings that went along with them and got irrevocably twisted with them did nothing to help matters. He felt the sticky mushroom head slip past his lips into his mouth, weighing heavily on his tongue, and at the same moment he felt unsure and inexperienced. He felt the tightly gripping hands in his hair and the warning itching pressure of the head of Dean's dick touching the back of his throat, meanwhile he felt vulnerable, but trusting. And when he felt the salty, bittersweet precum dripping into his mouth and sliding down his constricting throat, and heard Dean's helpless moans and grunts of pleasure and felt the shaking in the man's strong thighs, he felt powerful and strong.

Sam couldn't say how long he kneeled there, one hand absentmindedly fondling the man's balls, the other pulling at his own stiff dick while his puffy lips stretched tight around Dean's thick cock, and Dean's hums of pleasure filling the air. Finally, finally, when the building ache in his jaw became pretty uncomfortable, Dean's hands tightened even more, and he pulled his hips back, pulling his dick out of the blond boy's mouth with a "pop".

One of Dean's own hands gripped his cock, and he began to furiously stroke it, his eyes staring straight into Sam's. That seemed the last straw, and with a long echoing growl/groan that could possibly have been Sam's name, he came, his cum splattering all over the teen jock's face.

It was weird, a strange feeling, to have someone's spunk on his face. It was cooler than he expected, and dried surprisingly fast. Of course, he knew both of those things from frequent...ehem, alone times, as it were, but he never really stopped to think about actual cum before getting jizzed on his face. He couldn't resist sliding his tongue out and swiping it on his red lips, pulling some of the white cum into his mouth with it as he retracted it. Dean groaned.

"Well, kid, I think you definitely earned your booze," his voice was gruff, and, strangely enough, when he said it in that rough, fucked-out voice, Sam found he didn't really mind being called "kid". The blond man straightened from his slumped position and carelessly pushed his jeans completely off of him as he walked over to the chair and plopped himself down. He patted his lap encouragingly, but then turned his attention to opening the bottle of whiskey. It only took a millisecond of consideration before Sam was removing his own unfastened jeans and boxers before following the man's path and plonking down on his naked lap.

The bottle was finally uncapped, and for a second Sam wondered if there were glasses around at all, before Dean simply put the bottle to his mouth and chugged down a mouthful. Sam watched longingly. The man seemed to notice, and gave a rough laugh.

"Guess you want your payment now, huh? Alrighty then, open up, sweetheart," his tone gave Sam a clue that things weren't about to be done the conventional way, but he just relaxed against the Dean's impressive chest and decided to roll with it.

Sure enough, he was right, for instead of passing him the bottle, Dean rather chugged another mouthful before gripping Sam's head and angling it just right for him to seal their lips together. He channeled the liquor bit by bit into Sam's waiting mouth, which was probably the only thing that kept him from choking. The whiskey burned, but somehow, Dean's full lips gently massaging his own soothed the burn.

So they slowly made progress in drinking the whole bottle, sharing whiskey kisses*, sucking it off of each other's tongues, and Dean was slowly, languidly, grinding his dick into Sam's ass. Sam began to feel buzzed, with the room blurring out of focus, but Dean becoming sharper. Everything felt slightly hazy, and they may have kissed around the booze for hours, he wasn't sure. He did notice though, in extreme disappointment, when Dean's voice rasped out that the whiskey was almost finished.

The thought, as well as his partial inebriation, made his tongue sloppy and his lips clumsy, so he fumbled his mouth while Dean was making the transfer. Three thin trails of the alcohol escaped his mouth and slid down his chin and onto his neck. Dean wasted no time in chasing after them, placing his tongue at the bottom of each line of liquid and lazily lapping up the trails until he reached the blond's mouth. There, he suckled noisily on Sam's swollen lips, finally pulling away with one last wet slurp. Sam sighed and relaxed into him once more.

He was vaguely aware of being picked up, bridal style, and carried to the only bed in the motel room. Even the large, calloused hands the divested him of his shirt failed to alarm him, and he just snuggled up next to the man once he had also laid down, allowing their naked skin to press against each other. Sam sighed a bit, and snuffled into Dean's shoulder, enjoying the scent of sweat, whiskey, leather, gun powder…and pie? He snuggled closer, gave his lips one more lick, and fell asleep.

TBC…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asterisks time!
> 
> *I am not implying that Dean performed sexual favors for his liquor. He did, however, work/hunt/train for it, which is what he's referring to here.
> 
> *In my mind, Dean would go commando as much as possible, so, well, here he is!
> 
> *I also imagine that Dean would do a little man-scaping, so as not to freak out the ladies, yeah?
> 
> *I'm actually not sure what "whiskey kisses" are, but this was the image that came to my mind when I thought of it. Whew! Can someone go buy me a new pair of panties, cuz…Dean…whiskey kiss…Sam…*drools*


	3. Good Morning, Honey

Sam woke up to a hard cock grinding into his ass, and a pair of full lips sucking what felt like hickey number three on his neck. He groaned, and tried to turn from his side onto his back, but the man, Dean, was reluctant to be parted from his ass, so he kept him right as he was, and shoved his dick harder into Sam's golden globes.

"Mmph, Dean, what…what," he stopped to yawn hugely and stretch out his left leg till it twitched and trembled at the released stiffness before he could muster the wits to finish his question, "What are you doing?"

"I'm humping your ass, what does it look like I'm doing?" Dean detached his lips from the blond boy's neck with a little smack and kept his mouth away just long enough to rasp out his mocking reply, before he brought his head back down and started on hickey number four. Sam realized that the man was making a ring of hickeys around his neck, and groaned at both the questions it would later bring from his peers and family, as well as the sheer hotness of it.

Just as he had settled down, somehow just knowing that Dean would not take no for an answer, one of Dean's hands slid from where it was resting possessively over the jock's abs up to Sam's mouth. He said nothing, just nudged the boy's mouth, but Sam understood and opened his mouth, lapping at the man's fingers till they dripped with his saliva.

On his way down, Dean paused for just a second to tweak one of Sam's pebbled nipples, before he went further, completely bypassing the blond's morning wood and instead creeping down to his pucker. Dean stroked and rubbed it with spit-wet fingers, and Sam couldn't control the shiver that danced down his spine. He had never done this to himself, and had often wondered that it could even be enjoyable in any way, but the dyslexic boy couldn't deny there was a certain pleasurable sensuality to Dean's slow, lingering exploration.

Dean moved on to hickey number five, this one right on his Adam's apple. Sam moaned this time, pushing his head a bit back and further into the pillow, trying to give his lover more space to work with. Dean gladly took it, finally allowing Sam to turn onto his back, and attacking his neck with all the enthusiasm and hunger of a starving vampire. Sam was pretty sure his neck was gonna be just one big bruise when the man was finished.

Now, Dean's erect prick was being ground down against Sam's own, and the moan that burst out of his mouth at the sensation was completely uncontainable.

"Now…now, you're not humping my…ass," he finally got out between pleasured moans. Dean's mouth released its mouthful of neck.

"No, that's because I'm about to fuck you," he countered. Sam stiffened just a little, before remembering all the other things he had let Dean do, and realizing that this didn't have to be such a big deal. So far, Dean had been careful with him and had done nothing to hurt him, it stood to reason that he would be gentle now.

"Okay," Sam shrugged," but I want more lube that just spit." He wasn't a fool, he had seen anal porn, granted, it was heterosexual, but still, he knew you had to be lubricated properly. Dean grunted before reluctantly pulling himself off of the blond boy and hurrying over to the bottle of whiskey. He grabbed it quickly and made his way back to the bed.

"Whiskey'll do," he murmured as he grabbed one of Sam's long legs and tossed it over his shoulder.

"Hmm, okay, but are you really willing to waste whiskey pouring it into my ass?" Sam couldn't help but ask, one eyebrow raised at the devilish grin Dean shot him.

"Oh, it's not a waste, sweetheart. When I'm done, I'm gonna suck it all back out," the grin spread wider on his face at Sam's moan. It grew even wider yet when he slopped some of the liquid onto his hand and stuck his first knuckle in. Sam tossed his head back with a groan.

"Mmm, that's right baby," he grunted as he worked his whole finger in," You're so tight."

"Ahhh, mmm, more lube, uhhh," Sam groaned and moaned as the older blond worked in another finger. Dean impatiently sloshed some more whiskey on both his hand and Sam's asshole. Then he worked in finger number three. His fingers spread again and again, stretching Sam's clinging walls as the boy writhed on the bed.

"Yeah, you're ready for my cock now, aren't you, baby," Dean's voice was practically all growl as he watched his fingers pump in and out of the grasping hole.

"Oh yes! Put you cock in me, now!" Sam demanded. Dean pulled his fingers out and positioned himself.

"As you wish, darling," he rasped as he pushed himself in deep in one go. Sam thrashed, not sure if he was in pain or pleasure, but sure that he didn't want it to end. Thankfully, Dean held still, allowing the teen to adjust, but he still felt every delicious throb.

"Ohhh…I'm so full. Move!" he groaned. The man was only too happy to obey.

He pulled back just a little before pushing back in. He kept up that pace, more rocking into his ass then actually fucking it. Just when Sam felt adjusted enough to complain, he began to pick up the pace, pulling farther out and pushing back in with more force. And so he went, going incrementally harder and faster, harder and faster, until he was powering in.

And then he hit something. Sam was ashamed to admit he probably squealed, both is shock and pleasure as a little spot in him was hit. Dean seemed to zero in on it and pound it mercilessly. Sam keened and wailed, and Dean just kept jackhammering in and out.

The sound of his balls slapping against the jock's ass was loud, but it didn't cover Dean's low grunts. He pulled out completely, and when he didn't immediately thrust back in, Sam gave an impatient whine.

"Yeah, I know you want it, you're a little slut for my cock, aren't you? Don't worry, I'll give you what you want," Dean whispered filthily in the boy's ear, causing his to nod and groan. The blond man helped Sam prop himself up on his hands and knees, using the opportunity to give his ass a good grope. Then, once he was positioned, he pistoned in with no warning.

Sam couldn't even get a breath to shriek as he kept reaming in, slamming Sam's prostrate and bruising his hips with a tight hold. All the teen could do was drop to his elbows and hold on for the ride, because Dean seemed to have no plans of stopping this time.

Before long, Sam could feel it, tingling in his lower stomach and tightening his balls. He opened his mouth to warn his partner, but just then, Dean slammed into his prostrate, and, keeping his cock head pressed against it, grinded into it with a circular motion of his hips. Sam came with a scream.

He thought he would never stop coming, his dick jerking and spurting load after load of spunk onto the motel sheets, while his ass clenched tightly around Dean prick. And just when Sam figured he might finally be done, Dean reached his climax as well, and came with a shout.

His dick squirted deep inside the teen's hole, making his start and then groan at the feeling. Finally, Dean seemed to have spent himself, and he pulled out with a slight "pop". Then he flopped down beside his collapsed partner.

"…So…did you like it?" he panted. Sam, who had just barely mustered the strength to turn his head to the side so he wouldn't smother himself of the pillow, could only groan as he tried to gather the energy to reply.

"Gosh, yes! We have to do that again sometime!" he enthused as best as he could. Dean gave a raspy laugh.

"Do what again? Fuck doggy-style? Yeah, I wanna do you like this again. But I also want you to ride me, forwards and backwards, cowboy. Think you can handle it?" he challenged, that knowing glint reappearing in his eyes.

"Forwards and backwards?! I'll be so bowlegged I wouldn't be able to walk!" he squeaked. Dean laughed again, stretching out a bit before pushing himself up into a sitting position on the edge of the bed.

"That's the plan, pardner. Now c'mon, we need to get cleaned up." Sam groaned at his command.

"I'm too tired! You can't possibly expect me to get up after that," the blond boy whined. The smirk Dean shot him was positively evil.

"No, I suppose I can't. Which is a real shame, seeing as I promised you I'd suck all the whiskey out of your ass…oh well, some other time, perhaps…" he trailed off disappointedly, however, almost before he finished, Sam had sprung out of the bed and was running towards the bathroom.

"Oh…it seems you're not so tired after al-" Sam interrupted his wry comment.

"Shut up! Now get over here and suck my asshole(3)!" he yelled from the bathroom. Dean chuckled happily as he hurried after his young lover, and genuine smile blooming across his face.

"Your wish is my command, babe!"

TBC…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story Note time!
> 
> (1)I have no idea if whiskey is an appropriate lube, as I've never tried it before, but I imagine it would work as well as spit, only there's more of it. So yeah, seeing as the weirdest thing I've used for lube is hand soap, anybody who has ever used whiskey or some other alcohol as lube, please review and tell me how that goes!
> 
> (2)For those of you who have rightly noticed that Sam is out of character, there are a couple reasons for that:
> 
> (a) I don't know Sam's character that well, as he's not obviously overbearing like Rachel or Kurt (each in their own loveable ways), or dumb like Finn, or badass like Puck, or bitchy like Santana. He's kinda hard to characterize, so I'm just making him act like how I want him to.
> 
> (b)He's just been introduced to the wide, wonderful world of gay sex, and he's becoming a bit of a nympho. But with Dean doing his thing, can you really blame him?
> 
> And yes, I did switch to numbers. The asterisks were confusing me!


	4. Realizations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> incendiere here: this is my first post on one of MS's fics, so it's a bit different, and I decided to go in a slightly different direction. Hope none of y'all mind! Also, I suck at formatting, so cheers?

Sam

The second time Sam woke up, there was no warm body pressed up against his. Instead, he was alone, and, when he finally summoned the required energy to look around the motel room, the room was empty. Dean was gone.  
He wasn't surprised, not really, but it was still disappointing. What had happened last night, and this morning, hadn't been expected, but Sam knew now that it was something he had really needed.  
Sighing, he got out of bed and found his clothes neatly folded in a pile on a chair. The very chair, in fact, that he and Dean had sat on, naked. Sam sighed again, and put on his clothes, before noticing a pile of bills on the table, and a note.  
Hey Kid,  
Look, I know it was a douche move to leave you like this, especially since I know you were a virgin, but I'm not the kinda guy you want. I got too many scars.  
There's enough money to cover the room for last night, as well as tonight, as check out time has probably passed. If not, then keep the money; I have the feeling you need it.  
Good luck, kid,  
Dean  
Sam folded up the note, scooped up the money, and walked out of the room.  
lll0-----------------------0lll  
"Yo! Evans! Dude, I've been calling you! What's up?" Artie called, trying to hide his concern and annoyance. Sam shook his head, trying to clear his mind of thoughts of freckled skin and big, strong, scarred hands.  
"Oh, sorry, man! I lost my phone yesterday and didn't find it til this morning. Did something happen?" Sam asked quickly, coming up with a believable lie off the top of his head. Artie's face smoothed, and he shot Sam a suggestive smirk, lifting a fist for him to tap. Sam did so with a bemused grin and a quirked brow.  
"Did something happen?! Why don't you tell me, bro? I'm not the one who showed up with a nice little necklace of hickies!" The smirk on Artie's face grew bigger, and Sam just barely restrained himself from doing a Picard-worthy facepalm.  
"Damn!" He muttered. Artie's grin dropped, and the handicappable boy raised a sardonic eyebrow.  
"Please tell me you were not actually trying to hide the fact that you finally got some? Not only would that be totally against guy nature and the guy code, but you kinda totally did a really, really bad job. Those are totally the same clothes you wore yesterday. You didn't have time to change?"  
"No," Sam grunted, turning to finish collecting the books he needed from his locker," I didn't, and besides, it's no big deal. It's not like I have a girlfriend now or anything. It was a one time deal." He knew he sounded a little too disgruntled for Artie to believe him, but, thankfully, his friend let it pass.  
"Okay, man, whatever. But, next time, you call the Art-meister and tell him all, you hear?" Artie called after him as he started towards his next class.  
"Sure, dude. Later!" Sam tossed back over his shoulder, glad the whole encounter was over. By lunch, the whole Glee club would know, and by the end of the period after that, the whole school would, and, hopefully, by the next day, the buzz would have died down.  
Sam heaved one more sigh before walking into his algebra class. He would like to blame the math, but in reality, his problem had no variables and theorems, but certainly had charm and big green eyes to spare.  
ll0l-------------------ll0l  
Dean  
It wasn't right, what he did to that kid. Shouldn't have given him booze, shouldn't have talked to him, shouldn't have let him suck his cock. Definitely shouldn't have fucked, and then left him. Dean sighed and gripped the wheel tighter with one hand, the other pinching the bridge of his nose in stressed aggravation.  
The hunt he had been on had gone sour. But even if it hadn't,he would have still been as inclined to do what he had. Things weren't going good, in the bigger picture. Dad was dead, and had been for a while now. Sam was settled, finally rid of the ghost of Lucifer, and moving on with his new girlfriend, a pretty police officer by the name of Annie Reyes. Bobby was dead. Cas was, literally, God knows where. And Dean was alone. Well, except for last night.  
It wasn't a sign of some buried incestuous feelings that that cute little blond teen had been called Sam. No, it was really just more comforting, and familiar, and the two were way too different for any overlap to form. And Dean could use all the comfort and familiarity he could get. But, a little voice that sounded like his little brother hissed angrily in his head, Dean couldn't use anyone he wanted to get that.  
"Fuck," he grunted under his breath, and stepped down harder on the gas. There was a possible werewolf in Redding, Ohio. He'd go check it out.  
He purposely didn't think of the rugaru he had been planning on going after in Eureka, Califonia. So what if this one was closer to Lima, Ohio and closer to that head of fake blond hair and those shining blue eyes.   
No one would have to know.  
0lll--------------------lll0  
Sam  
It'd been two weeks since The One Night Stand, as Sam thought of it, and he was still in a funk. Any wet dreams that followed were more like memories of that night, and he couldn't watch any porn without thoughts of Dean doing the same to him filling his mind. And speaking of porn, he wasn't even watching straight porn much any more. He only did if the male had close cut blond hair, or bright green eyes, or freckles, or some combination of those. He was obviously smitten.  
Some people had noticed, and some hadn't; that wasn't surprising, What was was who had and who hadn't.  
At Glee, Santana, and by extention Brittany, Artie, Kurt, and, surprisingly, Puck, though that may have had something to do with Kurt and Puck getting together, had all all noticed. Mr. Shue seemed to have an inkling that something was up, but so far, he hadn't confronted Sam. And finally, the most surprising of all, was Coach Slyvester. How she found out, Sam really didn't want to know.  
At home, he knew his mom had figured out that he had an unrequited crush, and his little sister, Stephanie, had given him her old sock monkey, Bobo, to keep him company. It was a sad state of affairs when your little sister realizes what a totally mess you are. But even all that wasn't what kept Sam occupied lately.  
During his forays deep into pornland, in search of Dean-look-alikes, he came upon one such look-alike making out with what had at first looked like a girl, which had confused him as he was looking at gay porn, but then turned out to be a pre-op transgender. The sight fascinated him.  
The guy, or girl, had obviously been transitioning for a while, and even had boobs. Aside from the erect little cock poking so stubbornly out of her lacy panties, no one could have ever realized she had not been born a girl.  
Her thighs were round and her hips spread a bit. Her feet were a little long, yes, but nicely taken care of, with candy pink polish on each neat toenail. She wore some make up, but not a ton of it, and it was very tastefully done, highlighting her femininity. Even her clothes, for a porn video, were not excessively slutty, though this was softcore.  
She had on a blue sundress that stopped at the knees, with lacy short sleeves and a white ribbon right under her bust. Black stockings, white Mary Janes, and white ribbons in her two ponytails on the side of her head completed the look. She was amazingly beautiful, but there was something sweet about her as well.  
It took about six back-to-back viewings of the video before Sam realized that he wanted to be exactly like her. It took about six days for him to accept that, at least a little bit.  
0lll--------------------lll0  
Dean  
After two weeks in Redding, killing off a whole pack of werewolves, Dean had been hunting around the country for about four months. Now he was at a crossroads, both mentally and physically. He had no real reason to be anywhere right now. Well, except that his brother wanted him to be there for the birth of his nephew.  
It's not that Dean didn't want to be there for that, but it was something he was putting off. It would be the undeniable slap in the face that Sam was gone for good. Well, he'd still be there for Dean, but already Dean knew the ties were loosening.  
It was no one's fault, least of all Sam's. In fact, it was the natural progression of things, which had only been delayed by their upbringing. The hard truth was, siblings grew up, and apart. They got their own lives, their own families. Their brother or sister was no longer their closest companion, that title now rightfully belonged to their spouse. The age of living in each other's pockets was supposed to be over long ago, leaving time to grow dependent on other people. Unfortunately for Dean, it had finally happened much too late for him to accept it with the customary grace.  
He didn't blame Sam, far from it, but that baby would bring home what Dean desperately wanted to deny. The glory days of the Winchester Brothers were finally over.  
He started the engine and headed down the road marked "Lima, Ohio, 50 miles".  
The only reasons he had for going there were a pair of bright blue eyes and a heart ready to let go of the past and hold on to the new. There were three months yet til his nephew's birth, and he'd be there to welcome the little tyke into this fucked up world, but until then, it was time for Dean Winchester to take a vacation.

 

TBC


End file.
